


The Watchers

by INMH



Series: after the evacuation (pacifist ending) [27]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Drama, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, M/M, Romance, Stalking, Strong Language, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 15:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16140530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: Markus is being watched.





	The Watchers

Markus had been feeling it for almost a week.  
  
The creeping feeling on the back of his neck, that sense of being _watched._  
  
It happened on the bus, it happened at Jericho, it happened walking down the street, and it had even happened in the back yard of Carl’s house one afternoon: Simon had found him picking apart the bushes and hedges that surrounded the property, looking for some hidden camera or person in the foliage. “What are you doing?”  
  
“Nothing,” Markus had assured him quickly. “I, uh- I thought I heard something. Like a cat, or something.”  
  
“Oh.” Simon had shrugged and accepted the story, and Markus was relieved. With every day they spent together he found that Simon was getting better and better at knowing when he was lying. He’d gone back inside, and Markus had carefully picked through the rest of the bushes, satisfied that no one was there, but _un_ satisfied in the belief that someone had definitely been there not too long ago.  
  
It could have been a thief.  
  
It could have been a prankster.  
  
It could have been a paparazzo.  
  
But Markus knew it wasn’t.  
  
That insidious feeling of being watched could only come from someone who was doing it deliberately. That they never stuck around, that Markus never managed to catch them in the act suggested that they were trying to be as stealthy about it as possible, trying not to tip him off that he had a stalker. The sheer lack of physical evidence leant itself to the idea that it was an android, fast and light-footed; one of his own people was following him around.  
  
And Markus had a feeling he knew why.  
  
Just over a week ago, a plague had stricken the androids of North America: Thousands had collapsed, a virus attacking their biocomponents, killing dozens whose artificial organs were already damaged or weak. An anti-android terrorist group had taken responsibility for the attack, specifically a Canadian branch that had expressed frustration with the androids that had secretly seeped into their country prior to the revolution, seeking sanctuary from the oppression of the U.S. They had owned the attack with pride, and promised more to come.  
  
Markus, naturally, had been interviewed for his perspective on the situation. “What do you say to the androids that are now calling for retribution?” CTN‘s Michael Brinkley had asked, hands folded on the sleek table that he sat at whenever he did interviews. “What do you say to those androids that now suggest violence is imminent, and that striking preemptively is the only way to survive another onslaught from this, uh, Humanity Preservation Association?”  
  
Markus had looked him in the eye. “I would say to them that answering a crime with another crime is a bad way to respond,” He’d said, echoing his words the night of the protest in Capitol Park when they’d had two officers at their mercy. “If we are to live as equal to humans, then we must allow the legal system to work for us. As defined by U.S. law, this group is guilty of a terrorist act that has killed over one hundred androids across America. We must allow the authorities to handle this situation; trust goes both ways, and so long as they are investigating the situation to the best of their abilities and seeking justice for those killed, we must allow them to trust that we will abide by the law in the meantime and give them time to do their jobs.”  
  
Markus had been walking out of the Stratford Tower afterwards, and narrowly avoided being hit by a brick thrown by someone in the crowd outside. No one had seen the culprit’s face, noting that he’d had it covered with a hoodie and baseball cap; he’d ran off before anyone could stop him. Obviously, this was an android that had some bone to pick with Markus, perhaps specifically about what he’d said during that interview with CTN. There were androids that did not like Markus- this fact was neither surprising nor controversial to him, as he didn’t have nearly the ego required to think that he was lovable to every single person he met. But there was a particular group of androids that came to mind, first and foremost, whenever there came a question of who, among androids, disliked Markus the most:  
  
They’d started calling themselves the LAA: The Liberated Android Alliance. Markus knew very little of them as a group beyond their most basic, established position- namely, that they hated humans with a very visible passion, and desired for androids to acquire and maintain supremacy over them. Markus had had a direct run-in with one of their leaders, David, during the evacuation, where David had roundly expressed his disapproval of Markus’s politics and positions. Though for the most part the LAA seemed content to keep their distance from Jericho, they’d found their way into the news more than once, usually at the heart of some disturbance or protest or riot. If Markus had to point a finger at who would be mad enough about what he was saying to start throwing bricks or following him around, the LAA and its members were the first he’d be looking for.  
  
Now, someone throwing a brick could be chalked up to the heat of the moment, knee-jerk anger over Markus saying something they disagreed with. But if Markus was right and there was an android (or androids) stalking him, that was something else: That was premeditated, and as they couldn’t be gathering any sensitive information during these stake-outs (Markus did not take any materials from Jericho when he returned to the house, and all of his political and sensitive dealings were done at Jericho’s headquarters), Markus had the terrible feeling that the situation would escalate to violence. After all, why would someone be interested in his movements if they weren’t planning on using the information?  
  
Markus could handle any threat unto his person; his primary concern was for Simon and anyone else who spent extended periods of time with him. If this stalker chose to strike when someone else was with him, they could become injured in the crossfire, and Markus would have to live with the knowledge that he was somewhat responsible for their injury or demise.  
  
So for the past week, Markus had been on high-alert. He had no physical evidence, only a feeling, and told no one of his suspicions, but it didn’t stop him from going down the paranoia rabbit-hole.  
  
Every bump was someone creeping down the hall.  
  
Every shadow was someone lurking in a corner.  
  
Every sudden movement out in public was someone hiding before Markus could catch them watching.  
  
Markus had lain awake in bed at night, arms curled around Simon and unable to make himself power-down. He knew how Murphy’s Law worked- he’d had a crash-course in it back in November: The minute he went to sleep, someone would come into the bedroom and kill them. But likely they’d only succeed in killing Simon, because Markus would, naturally, have to cling to life and survive so that he could live with the pain of losing Simon. That was almost certainly how it would go.  
  
So Markus did not sleep until he felt Simon stirring in the morning, powering-down before he could wake to make it look as though he’d been powered-down all night. The lack of sleep left his system processes sluggish, overloaded- not all that dissimilar to how a human would react to missing long stretches of rest. When he tried to connect with other androids it took much longer to do so, and the connection was finicky; he found himself running diagnostics nearly constantly to correct the various problems he was experiencing, and more often than not Markus’s programming recommended powering-down to reduce system-strain.  
  
Eventually, of course, Simon had noticed.  
  
“There’s something bothering you.”  
  
They were taking a walk; no particular aim or purpose, just a walk. The weather had been unusually warm for February, and as Simon had finally undergone the necessary repairs to his temperature-control system, they were able to go out like this without being uncomfortable. Markus found that most citizens of Detroit weren’t expecting to just casually run across a high-profile person such as him walking down the street, so they tended not to notice him and the relative anonymity was pleasant.  
  
“Is that a question?”  
  
“No,” Simon said pointedly, “It’s a statement- and a true one, because you keep looking like someone’s going to jump out at you. What’s going on? Have you been getting threats again?”  
  
Markus snorted. “He said, completely serious, as though there’s ever been a time since the evacuation when I _haven’t_ gotten threats.”  
  
“You know what I mean.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Markus insisted, guilt gnawing at him for the lie but not wanting to worry Simon, “Can’t help getting a little cautious in public, the way the world is.”  
  
Simon raised an eyebrow at that, slowing to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “That’s it? That’s what you’re going with?”  
  
“Yup.” Simon wasn’t going to let it go, so there was no point in trying to dodge any more artfully than Markus had already.  
  
“Not buying it.”  
  
“Honestly, didn’t think you would.”  
  
Simon frowned. “What is it, Markus?”  
  
Markus shook his head, reaching up to rub his eyes. “Nothing I have any substantial proof about, so why bother?” That was why he hadn’t told Simon yet; there really was no solid evidence beyond suspicion and something akin to that human sixth-sense warning him that he was being watched, and so paranoia had grown like a well-tended plant in his mind. He didn’t want to worry Simon until he had actual evidence, and maybe some sort of plan in place to combat this.  
  
Still… Simon lived with him. They spent most of their days together and slept in the same bed at night. Whoever this was might be stalking Markus, but Simon was the most likely to accidentally end up in the line of fire. He, more than anyone else, deserved to know.  
  
“Have you seen anyone…” Damn, no, that wouldn’t work. Markus laughed at himself a little: Asking if anyone had seen a suspicious android lurking around Jericho was pointless, because there were plenty of suspicious androids at Jericho. It was a beacon for their kind all throughout Michigan, and that beacon attracted all sorts of androids, good and bad. It was for the same reason that asking if Simon had seen any _new_ androids at or around Jericho was worthless, never mind the fact that they belonged to a people manufactured with identical faces. “Have you seen any androids around Carl’s house? Anyone you don’t know?”  
  
Simon cocked his head. “No,” He said slowly, “Not that I’ve noticed. Why?”  
  
Markus sighed. “I don’t-”  
  
He stopped.  
  
There had been a sudden flash of movement at the end of the street. It wasn’t the easy step of someone just casually rounding the corner- it was the jerky panic of someone scrambling for cover because they were afraid they’d been spotted.  
  
“ _Mother_ -”  
  
“Markus, what-?”  
  
Markus grabbed Simon by the arm and pulled him along. For a moment Markus couldn’t speak, his heart thumping wildly in his chest and stress-level boiling higher and higher. He searched for ideas as Simon reluctantly followed along, begging for an explanation. “Hold on, hold on,” he muttered absently and tried to resist the urge to look over his shoulder. When he saw the decorative concrete wall that surrounded the park, the idea came to him. Markus picked up the pace and tugged Simon insistently along,  
  
“Markus, for fuck’s sake, what are you-?”  
  
Lightning-fast, Markus grabbed Simon by the sleeve and yanked him into the park, whipping them around the corner and pushing him down behind a thick oak tree in the grass.  
  
[ _Try to keep quiet._ ]  
  
[ _What the hell is going on?!_ ]  
  
Simon’s voice in his head was one part irritable and two parts urgent. Markus squeezed his shoulder, holding him in place as he peered around the trunk of the tree; they weren’t hidden well, but maybe well enough to not be noticed at a glance.  
  
[ _Just wait. Please, just wait._ ]  
  
For one minute, then two, then three, Markus was worried that he’d just frightened and pissed off Simon for nothing. But then someone came around the corner- they wore a hoodie, face obscured, entering the park and looking around almost frantically. They didn’t seem to see Markus and Simon, just in the right position for the tree to block their view of them. The person walked past the tree, further into the park, right past them without noticing.  
  
[ _Stay here._ ]  
  
[ _Wait, wait a minute-_ ]  
  
Markus stepped out from behind the tree, onto the path.  
  
“Excuse me,” He said loudly, fists clenching at his sides. “Can I help you with something?”  
  
The android jumped, taken by surprise, and now Markus could see his face clearly. It was a PL600, precisely the same series- and therefore, appearance- as Simon. He had the same blonde hair in the same style, and the same blue eyes.  
  
Markus shuddered. It was always a little funny to see another of Simon’s PL600 series out and about, one of his doubles that could easily pass as him if they had a mind to. Markus could easily pick Simon out of a crowd of PL600s with the same face as his, so confusion was never the issue, but the fact that he had so many look-alikes was unsettling to recall at times. It was even more jarring now to consider that this android who looked _just_ like Simon also happened to be stalking him- how easy would it have been to catch a glimpse of this android out of the corner of his eye and dismiss it as Simon disappearing into a room, or around a corner?  
  
When the other android didn’t respond, Markus stepped forward, eyes narrowed. “You’ve been following me all week. What do you want?”  
  
The PL600 glared at him, and didn’t speak. He started to back away.  
  
Markus grit his teeth and stepped forward. “You need to stay the hell away from me, or I swear I’m going to-”  
  
A silver blur arced through the air, and Markus jumped back just in time to avoid being struck. The skin just below his heart stung; the android drew his arm back, and Markus reacted instinctively by lunging to the side and out of the way. The android couldn’t catch himself in time and fell forward onto the ground. Markus jumped on top of him, going for the hand that held the weapon- the android elbowed him in the face, knocking him off, and Markus didn’t even see it when something sliced across his forehead.  
  
He did see it, though, when Simon grabbed the other PL600 by the hood of his sweatshirt and yanked him back and off of Markus. Blue blood dripped into Markus’s eye, and other people came over as he sat up and tried to wipe it away. Somebody was helping Simon subdue the android; a human man was leaning over Markus now, placing a steadying hand on his back. “You alright, dude?”  
  
Markus pressed a hand to the cut on his forehead and nodded. “Yeah, it’s nothing, I’m fine. It’s not serious.” He used his free hand to get the blood from his eye. The men who’d stopped were two joggers- the human and, evidently, an android, one of the AC700s designed as personal trainers. The android was holding the PL600’s arms behind him, a knee planted in the small of his back.  
  
“I called the police,” Simon said. “They’re five minutes out. Do you need help?”  
  
“Nah, I’m good,” The AC700 raised an eyebrow at the PL600 beneath him. “I think he’s figured out that he’s not going anywhere.”  
  
“Go to Hell,” The PL600 spat.  
  
“You’re good,” The AC700 said, “Check on your friend.”  
  
Simon crawled the few feet across the walkway to Markus and threw his arms around his neck. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Markus assured him quickly. “I’m fine. It’s just a few scratches.”  
  
Simon immediately pulled back and examined the wounds for himself. Markus might have been offended if he weren’t forced to acknowledge that he maybe, possibly, had a history of underplaying his injuries- especially to Simon. As it was, though, these were fairly minor: A slice across the forehead, and one right below his heart; the one on his head was still bleeding, but the one below his heart didn’t seem to have hit deep enough to bleed.  
  
“Yeah,” Simon muttered absently, gently moving Markus’s head to the side to get a better look at the cut. “It’s not too bad. It’s not too bad.”  
  
“It’s fine, I’m fine.”  
  
Simon nodded- and then put his hands on Markus’s shoulders and looked him right in the eye. “Don’t _ever_ ,” He growled, “Withhold this sort of thing from me again.”  
  
Markus nodded wearily; he could hear sirens approaching. “I won’t.”  
  
“I mean it, Markus.”  
  
“I won’t.”  
  
Markus wasn’t completely sure that was the truth.  
  
[---]  
  
“So, I feel like this could have been prevented.”  
  
Markus rubbed his eyes. “How’s that, Detective Anderson?”  
  
“Oh, it’s nothing big, just a little theory, really- _call the fucking cops._ ”  
  
“With what?!” Markus exclaimed. “I didn’t have any evidence!”  
  
“That’s _my job!_ ” Hank responded, waving his hands furiously. “Mine! I’m the detective! Finding evidence is what I do!”  
  
“ _I_ would have called you, Detective,” Simon said sweetly before turning and giving Markus a flat look. “If I’d known.”  
  
Hank pointed to him. “You. I like you.” Then he pointed to Markus. “You- listen to him more.”  
  
“Thank you!” Simon exclaimed, exasperated.  
  
Connor, sitting on the edge of his desk, gave Markus a sympathetic look.  
  
Markus groaned. “I almost died today, can you lay off?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
Hank looked pointedly at Simon. “Don’t lay off. Harass him. Make sure he _calls the damn cops_ next time.”  
  
“Oh, I intend to.”  
  
“Good.” Hank looked up, and did a double-take. “Need something, kiddo?”  
  
Markus and Simon turned to see Chloe peering around the partition that separated the hallway from the DPD bullpen and officers’ desks. “Just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” She said. “Did you want me to talk to North and Josh about adjusting security around Jericho for the time being?”  
  
Markus grimaced. He didn’t like the idea of increasing security, if only because the androids they had performing security at Jericho were mostly volunteers- well, they were paid in Thirium and biocomponents and maintenance and lodging, but beyond that they weren’t actually being paid a wage, and it was a potentially dangerous job: Not all aggressive androids were as easily subdued as the PL600 (who still hadn’t given them his name) had been.  
  
“Not… Just yet,” he said hesitantly. “Leave it for today. I’ll think on it tonight and bring in a plan tomorrow.”  
  
Hank stepped around the edge of the desk. “I’m gonna go check on Mr. Park Stabbington and see if they’ve gotten anything out of him, you guys hang tight.” He disappeared down the hall, leaving them with Connor and Chloe.  
  
Connor hopped off the desk and ran a hand through his hair. “In all seriousness,” He said, “Don’t hesitate to contact us again if you think someone’s trailing you. We’ve been building a watch-list of some androids that might be inclined to start some serious trouble in the future, and if you recognize one of them, we might be able to bring them in before they get up to something serious.”  
  
Simon gave Markus a pointed look. “I’m not sure why you didn’t say anything before you were _literally_ being attacked in the damn park.”  
  
“It’s only been happening a week,” Markus protested wearily. “I had no evidence that I was being followed, or who was doing it. I didn’t want to scare you when I didn’t have anything solid to go on.”  
  
“Yeah, well, next time-”  
  
“Next time, I will tell you immediately,” Markus assured him, putting a hand on his.  
  
“Hopefully there won’t be a next time,” Connor remarked. “While I can’t speak for the sort of derangement that would cause someone to stalk or attack you unprovoked in public, I, personally, would think twice about doing so after today. Anyone with similar designs will know you’re on your guard now.”  
  
“We can only hope.” Simon turned to Chloe. “So, what’re you doing here?”  
  
The _slightest_ blush colored her cheeks. “I was having lunch with Connor.”  
  
Connor pulled a quarter out of his pocket and started fiddling with it, not looking any of them in the eye. Markus barely resisted smiling. “That sounds nice.”  
  
“It was.”  
  
“ _They’re so cute!_ ” Hank cooed, startling them all as he poked his head around the edge of the partition, and Markus and Simon snorted as Chloe blushed even harder and Connor’s eyes rolled shut.  
  
“Take me with you,” He whispered to Chloe. “He’ll be like this for the rest of the day.”  
  
“No deal, kid, you’re stuck with me for four more hours.” Hank drawled, grinning wickedly at his young partner. To Markus and Simon he said, “You guys are free to go. Mr. Stabbington back there’s being brought up on assault with a deadly weapon charges- we can’t prove the stalking just yet, but we’re working on it. The point is, he’s not on the street right now, so rest easy.”  
  
“Tall order,” Simon sighed.  
  
“Fair enough.”  
  
Hank and Connor walked them out to the lobby; Markus didn’t miss the little smiles that passed between Connor and Chloe. Hank was right- they _were_ cute. Once they parted, Connor went back to the bullpen and Chloe and Simon started discussing some of the specifics of what had happened in the park, leaving Markus with Hank.  
  
“Uh, hey- there’s one more thing.” Hank paused, and then looked over Markus’s shoulder to where Simon and Chloe were exiting the building, talking easily to one another. He lowered his voice. “They can’t hear me from here, right?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Good. There’s something else I should mention, just for your edification.” Hank rolled his jaw for a moment before continuing. “So we asked a lot of questions- most of them he wouldn’t answer, and the ones he did I’m pretty sure he wasn’t telling the truth about. We asked if he was following both of you or just you, and he _did_ say that it was just you. Simon wasn’t a target.”  
  
Markus’s body sagged with relief. “I figured as much.”  
  
“Me too. But then we asked him if he was the only one following you.”  
  
Markus nodded slowly. “And?”  
  
Hank was quiet, eyes sharp and cold. “He said no.”  
  
“And you don’t believe him.”  
  
“Call it a hunch, or call it over twenty-five years in law enforcement- but no, I don’t buy it.”  
  
“Good,” Markus said, crossing his arms. “Because neither do I.”  
  
“And _that’s_ why you’re the leader,” Hank replied with an exaggerated grin. “Because you’ve got a brain rattling around in there.” The grin evaporated. “Seriously, though, watch your back. Between the HPA and the LAA and the LALALA and ABBA or whatever new batshit group comes crawling out of the woodwork, you’ve got a lot of enemies. Keep your eyes peeled.” Hank grimaced. “And while I get trying to keep him out of it, consider keeping Simon appraised of this. Something tells me he’s not gonna like another surprise like today.”  
  
Markus sighed. “No, he won’t.” He raised an eyebrow at Hank. “Kinda makes me wonder why you’re telling me and not him.”  
  
Hank shrugged. “I… _Get it,_ okay? I was married. I had a kid. I broke up drug-rings, and that brings some dangerous shit down on your doorstep. I understand not wanting to drag Simon into it if you don’t have to.” He looked at Markus pointedly. “That being said, if you genuinely believe you’re being followed again, tell him. There’s a difference between ‘someone may try to stalk me at some point’ versus ‘I think someone is currently stalking me’. If you’re trying not to scare him, remember that he’ll be plenty scared when he figures out you’ve been lying to him and that there’s been a legitimate threat to you _and_ him for weeks.”  
  
Markus nodded, resigned. “You’re right.” And if he lied again, Simon would probably react much worse than he had this time. Markus didn’t want that- he liked the harmony of their relationship too much. “Thanks for warning me, Hank.” He held out a hand, and Hank shook it. Markus left, stepping into the cold evening where Simon and Chloe were waiting.  
  
He and Simon stayed at Jericho that night. While Carl’s home would never be intimidating to him, Markus had to acknowledge the potential danger in staying there tonight after narrowly escaping what the media was calling an attempted assassination. “How do they even know?” Simon asked.  
  
North snorted and rolled her eyes. “The media _always_ knows. For every catastrophe, there’s at least one human pulling out their phone to immortalize it on film.”  
  
“At least that will make the court case easier,” Chloe suggested. “It’s solid proof that you were attacked.”  
  
“I think his face and chest say that pretty well,” Simon had mumbled.  
  
When he and Markus were finally alone in the small office that regularly doubled as their sleeping-space at Jericho, Markus had pulled him close and squeezed him. “I’m fine,” He repeated. “It’s just a few scratches. I’m fine.”  
  
“But next time you might not be.” Simon had pushed him back a little and looked up at Markus with a terribly serious gaze. “You need to tell me if you think someone’s following you again. Throw caution to the wind and just tell me whenever you even _kind_ of suspect someone’s tailing you. _Please._ ”  
  
“I will.” Markus’s hand ran up and down Simon’s arm. “I promise.”  
  
Simon sighed and nodded, seeming to accept the answer for now.  
  
And so they got into bed for the night, the subtle noises of Jericho and Detroit at work in the background, all around them. Bumps and shadows that were almost soothing in their familiarity.  
  
Simon slept.  
  
But Markus, still, did not.  
  
-End


End file.
